


Visiting Hours

by tyranusfan



Series: The Search for Bucky Barnes [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 06:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1808266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyranusfan/pseuds/tyranusfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Steve recovers in the hospital after the battle over Triskelion, he gets some unexpected visitors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visiting Hours

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is the first in a series dealing with Cap's search for Bucky and their eventual reunion. It can be read as a standalone, but is best read alongside its companion story, "Breaking the Leash."
> 
> Thanks to geminigrl11. Marvel owns all, I'm just playing with their toys.

** Visiting Hours **

  
  
"Not even a text message?"  
  
Steve's eyes flew open at the sudden words. He had to blink a few times to clear his vision. The painkillers the docs were using were really knocking him out.  
  
When his eyes finally cleared, he found the source of the question. Tony Stark was in the doorway to Steve's hospital room, arms crossed and one eyebrow arched imperiously. He looked like an annoyed school teacher preparing to rebuke a student.  
  
"Tony?"  
  
Stark pushed himself off the doorjamb, gesturing vaguely out the window. "New York is an hour away, tops. Less, if I use the afterburners."  
  
"Tony—"  
  
"But, I hear— _on  the news_ —that two of my friends are being hunted down by S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA, and some psychotic assassin. Helicarriers—that are secretly targeting _my_ tower—are being blown out of the sky. Fury's gone underground," Tony stopped Steve's attempted correction with a sharp wave of his hand. "Don't even try to convince me he's 'dead.' That one-eyed bastard has more lives than the proverbial cat and you can't lie to save your life."  
  
" _Tony_ ," Steve interrupted, lifting himself off the pillow with a groan. "I'm sorry. There wasn't time."  
  
Stark reached over and hit the button to raise the bed, easing Steve's effort to sit up. He took a moment to return his gaze to Steve's face. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Took a knife to my shoulder and a metal fist to my face a half-dozen times, but I think so."  
  
Tony's face bunched up. "You left out the three bullets, Captain Understatement."  
  
Steve's eyes searched the ceiling for a moment, his drug-addled thoughts resisting his attempts to think coherently. Fortunately, sitting up had prompted some excruciating pain that helped to remind him. "Oh. Yeah."  
  
"Thought that shield was bullet proof?" Tony asked, snorting in what might be only feigned condescension. Steve couldn't tell. "You looked better after fighting off an army of _aliens_."  
  
Steve shrugged, wincing and regretting the motion immediately. _Yeah, three bullets and a knife wound_.  
  
They sat quietly for a few moments, Steve starting to float again with the painkillers, while Tony stared at the floor.  
  
"Is it true?" Tony asked suddenly. Steve rolled his head to face him again.  
  
Stark held up a printout of an old news headline, _Howard and Maria Stark Dead_. He threw the folded paper down on the bed table in disgust. "What Romanoff dumped onto the web. It wasn't an accident? HYDRA... _murdered_ Mom and Dad?"  
  
Steve watched his friend's face closely, finally identifying the undercurrent of emotion he'd been sensing since Stark appeared in the door. Barely concealed rage. Steve had seen it before, the day Coulson died at Loki's hands.  
  
"I'm sorry, Tony. I wish it wasn't."  
  
Tony nodded tightly. He took a few deep breaths. When he met Steve's eyes again, the anger was still there, but it wasn't so close to erupting. "I guess you're going to be looking for him."  
  
Steve frowned. Tony changed topics the way Clint changed TV channels.  
  
"Barnes," Tony added, shrugging as though all they were discussing was what he had planned for dinner.   
  
Steve's frown deepened. _How much did Stark know? And how—?_  
  
"I'll have JARVIS start a facial recognition search. Stark Industries owns enough security cameras, we should get a few places crossed off the list, at least."  
  
A strange warmth welled up within Steve, offsetting the chill of the recycled hospital air. He'd half expected Stark to argue with him, like Natasha. He said the only word that came to mind. "Thanks."  
  
"I know what it's like," Tony said, looking at the floor once more. "Having a friend try to kill you." He reached his hand out and patted Steve's forearm lightly. "I, uh, I hope it turns out differently for you."  
  
Steve was speechless for a moment. Tony stood and jutted his chin toward the IV in Steve's arm. "I'll call my pharmacist, have him send you down some of the good stuff. You'll be high as a kite and crooning some '40s-era big band song in no time."  
  
With that, Stark moved toward the door, ready to blow out of the room like a tornado like he did everywhere. Steve called out to him before he could leave. "Tony, we'll make HYDRA pay. For Howard, Bucky... _all_ of this. They won't get away with it."  
  
Tony turned slightly, mouth twisted into a dark smile. "I still know how to build a suit. You let me know as soon as you're up for that, and I'm there."  
  
"I will," Steve said softly. "I promise."  
  
Tony nodded once, turning to leave again. "Get some rest, Cap. Come see me when you get out."  
  
Steve watched Stark breeze out of the room. In the hall, he heard Tony speaking again. "Ugh! Happy, this is a military hospital, they're already wearing security badges! Stand down!"  
  
Huffing a laugh, Steve blinked slowly until the drugs caught up with him again.  
  
  


**CAP CAP CAP**

  
  
  
_You're my mission!_  
  
In between skull-rattling impacts from the titanium fist, Steve saw Bucky's face. The raw animalistic hatred. He was the Winter Soldier's mission, but Steve didn't fight back. He wasn't reacting the way the soldier needed him to react. He wouldn't feed the monster. It was infuriating the soldier. Steve could only offer him the truth in response.  
  
 _I'm with you 'til the end of the line._  
  
"Steven."  
  
He woke with a start. When Steve's eyes focused, he found a set of broad shoulders and long blond hair standing over him. It was a surprise to say the least. "Thor?"  
  
He might have easily said _Thors_ , since the painkillers had him seeing two Norse gods by the bedside.  
  
"I came as soon as I heard what had happened," the Asgardian prince lowered himself gracefully onto the bedside chair. He was wearing a slightly-too-small gray shirt and blue jeans, but was still recognizable even if one didn't already know him. "I see it was quite a battle. I'm sorry to have missed it."  
  
"It-it was something. I, um, I didn't know you were back...um, on Earth," Steve said quietly. He vaguely remembered a report about the event in London, but it was hazy. The doctors had upped his prescription, since his body had been burning through the first dosage too quickly. His words were slurring. He was having trouble composing sentences. Moving around was all but out of the question.  
  
Thor seemed unfazed. He produced a cup of water from...somewhere and held it up so Steve could take a drink. Steve sipped it gratefully. "Yes, in London, with Jane. It is quite an experience! Lady Darcy is teaching me to drive, since she has already mastered the streets there."  
  
Steve tried to think, unsure if he knew who Darcy was, or if he was even supposed to know. He couldn't put the name to a face.  
  
"I was also informed...about your friend." Thor added softly, worry showing on his face. Steve must have looked terrible, since he couldn't remember ever seeing that kind of look on the Asgardian's face, even when they had been surrounded by Chitauri soldiers.  
  
"Stark is quite agitated over the situation. I...cannot imagine what you must be feeling."  
  
"I— Thank you," Steve replied simply, stumbling over the words. It was hard to keep his voice steady. He'd been dreaming about the last look he'd seen on Bucky's face every time he slept, and the drugs were making him emotional.  
  
Thor's hand clamped firmly on Steve's shoulder, his deep voice unflinchingly earnest. "You will find him, and make him whole. Do not waver, my friend."  
  
"Natasha doesn't share your optimism," Steve murmured. He wasn't sure why he volunteered that information. Maybe it was the audience. Thor regarded him as a warrior, maybe a kindred spirit. They'd naturally gravitated to each other during the fighting in New York. Somehow he thought Thor, of all his friends, might be the one to truly understand why Steve _had_ to find Bucky.  
  
He got a knowing smile in return. "Natasha is a great cynic, much like Sif. They see the world in harsh colors—and are often proven right—but they don't know the responsibility for his warriors that a captain must carry. If I were in your feet, I would not be stopped from searching for him, either."  
  
Steve chuckled. " _Shoes_. 'In your shoes.'"  
  
Thor grinned and nodded graciously. "As you say, in your shoes."  
  
Steve's smile faded a little as the pain from the wounds in his back, shoulder, and abdomen flared up. The drugs were wearing off again.  
  
Thor squeezed his arm. "Rest for a moment, I will tell the healers you are in pain, and once they have seen to you, I want to hear about your adventures with the courageous Bucky Barnes. You must tell me everything."  
  
"You got it." Steve sank back into the pillow. Thor was always eager to hear war stories, and he told good ones in return. Maybe telling a few of Bucky's stories could.... He wanted people to know the Bucky _he_ knew, not the killing machine that had terrorized them on the streets of Washington.  
  
Sam Wilson re-entered the room as Thor walked out, and did a double take. "Was—was that Thor?"  
  
"The one and only," Steve confirmed with a tired nod.  
  
Sam looked outraged. "Ah, _man_! If I'd come back one minute earlier!"  
  
"Relax, he's coming back."  
  
"Really?" Sam lit up like a kid at Christmas. Steve shook his head.  
  
"You better have some good war stories to tell. That's the currency of the realm when Thor's involved." Steve sobered, eyes raking over Sam's jacket. He lowered his voice and glanced toward the door. "Did you get it?"  
  
Sam grinned deviously, reached into his coat and withdrew a medium-sized container marked _Cheesecake Factory_. "Oh, I got it."  
  
Hospital food was one thing that _hadn't_ improved in seventy years.  
  
"Find a third fork, for Thor," Steve ordered, mood already lightening, even though he was still seeing double from the meds. "But hide that for now, the nurses are coming."  
  
  


**CAP CAP CAP**

  
  
  
  
Even with his serum-enhanced healing, a gut wound was slow to mend. As promised, Tony's doctor had come by and consulted with the doctors on duty, and as a result, Steve had a bag of something so strong even his metabolism was having a hard time burning through. Which meant that Steve was feeling very little pain at all anymore.  
  
And if Sam and Natasha kept catching him humming a little Duke Ellington to himself, then so be it.  
  
Steve had been drifting in and out of consciousness all night. He'd had a parade of visitors all day, much to the nurses' annoyance. Tony had stopped in again, as had Clint. Bruce had called him from some developing world free clinic where he was volunteering. Thor had brought Jane by, Hill had come by with Pepper, even President Ellis himself had spoken with him—albeit via video call.  
  
The usually reserved Ellis had been visibly thrilled when Steve mentioned that the last time he'd fielded a call from the President, it had been Franklin Roosevelt, and vowed that the next visit would be in person, since he _had_ to do better than "an old Democrat."  
  
Sam had derailed a few reporters before they got to the room, Natasha had handled some of their former S.H.I.E.L.D. colleagues, but even so, after an afternoon like that, Steve was simply exhausted. The doctors had stopped in and changed out his medicine bag, and after that, he spent his time dozing and listening to Sam and Natasha argue over food, music, and romance novels vs. Young Adult fiction, which Sam unabashedly enjoyed himself.  
  
Natasha had stayed on after Sam went home, skillfully evading nurse check-ins and managing to remain long after visiting hours were over. Steve had suggested she follow Sam's example and go home, but she had pointedly reminded him that they'd just fired a machine gun into a HYDRA hornet's nest, and neither she nor Sam intended to allow him to be unprotected in his hospital bed. Apparently, the military policemen outside his door didn't count.  
  
So, he slept, fitfully, restlessly. Days trapped in a bed were not something he enjoyed, not after spending the first two decades of his life in just that manner. Steve tried not to dwell too much on the past, since memories of his sickly childhood led to memories of orphanages, bullies...and Bucky.  
  
When his eyes drifted open between naps, the room door was open. Natasha must have slipped out again. Sometimes she had to completely clear the room to avoid the nurses throwing her out. The door stayed open for a while. There was little traffic in the wing that evening. The two nurses on duty passed by semi-regularly, but almost no civilians. The only non-staff person that Steve had noticed at all had been a guy in a dark hoodie.  
  
The next time his eyes opened, the door was closed. He didn't see Natasha at her usual post in the chair. The lights were off, even the dim one by the mirror.  
  
Odd.  
  
Steve's brain noted the differences, but it took a few seconds for his instincts to kick in and actually look around the room. The drugs were still kicking his ass.  
  
His eyes stopped in the corner by the bathroom. A shadow was there. A shadow within shadows. Only a faint glint of moonlight off metal betrayed its presence. Steve felt like he should be alarmed, but the meds took so much of an edge off that he couldn't summon the energy to do more than stare. Well, blink drowsily and stare. _Damned meds_.  
  
He blinked again, and the shadow had moved, grown larger. It was practically on top of him. Instinct took over again, and he struggled to sit up. Something cool and smooth closed over his left hand, and a warm pressure on his chest effortlessly pushed him back down to the bed.  
  
"Relax."  
  
Steve frowned, his eyes were so blurred he couldn't make out the person above him. "Natasha?"  
  
"No."  
  
No, that wasn't right. The voice was too deep, too quiet. Steve's brow furrowed. Natasha wasn't there. She'd stepped out....  
  
The warm hand moved, leaving his chest and brushing his forehead.  
  
"Sleep."  
  
The motion was soothing. Steve drifted again.  
  
When he woke the next time, the lights were back on, and Natasha was standing by the foot of the bed, coffee in hand.  
  
"Natasha?"  
  
She looked at him. "Steve? You all right?"  
  
"Were you just—? I mean...did you see some—?"  
  
Natasha frowned at him. "What's wrong?"  
  
Steve shook his head for a moment. Had he been dreaming? It felt so real... He sighed. "Nothing. It's nothing. Wow. Tony's doctor gave me some powerful stuff. I think I'm hallucinating."  
  
"Doesn't surprised me," she replied with a smirk. "Seems to me Stark spends most of his days in a haze. This explains it as well as anything."  
  
Laughing faintly, Steve shook his head. It had felt so real. "I—I think I'm going to try to sleep this off."  
  
Natasha sank into her chair and propped her feet on the end of the bed. "Go ahead. I brought another trashy romance novel to pass the time."  
  
Steve rolled his eyes. "Please, God, don't read me a bedtime story from it this time."  
  
"Are you kidding?" She shot back, displaying a knowing smile. "I'll wait until Clint is here. He liked watching you blush like a schoolgirl."  
  
He closed his eyes. "Shaddup."  
  


**CAP CAP CAP**

  
  
  
1930  
  
 _The rheumatic fever was kicking his butt. Steve hadn't been out of bed in a week, and the medicine the nuns had gotten weren't even denting his fever. His drafty room provided little comfort, even with three blankets piled on top of his slight frame._  
  
 _Without warning, a hand wrapped around his forehead. Steve jumped, struggling to turn over and confront the intruder in his room._  
  
 _"Relax."_  
  
 _Steve blinked, vision blurred and eyes tearing involuntarily. "Mom?"_  
  
 _It didn't sound right, even to his own ears. Mom wasn't there. Hadn't been for a long time...._  
  
 _The voice didn't answer at first, the bed dipping under a sudden weight at the edge. "No, it's Bucky."_  
  
 _"Bucky," Steve repeated, the tension leaving his body as he sank back into the lumpy pillow. "Didn' hear ya come in...."_  
  
 _"Go back to sleep, buddy." Bucky whispered, stroking Steve's hair gently until his eyes fell shut again. Steve fell back into a fitful sleep, feeling better than he had all week._  
  
 _Bucky had always been there when he needed him._  
  


**END**


End file.
